Once returned to the bed, he broke Svanhild’s runes one by one with a whispered verse and a touch ofseiðr. Her binding runes smoldered and died out. The shackles opened with a snap, and Thori drew a hitching breath.
Angrily, Njord stared at the dark bruises the cuffs had left on Thori’s skin. While Njord had resolved not to waste his healingseiðron Thori, he couldn’t bring himself to simply slap his own bonds on the abused skin. Reluctantly mumbling an incantation, Njord mended the damage as best he could. Only when thebruises had faded did he close his own shackles around Thori’s wrists. Hisseiðron Thori’s skin. His enchantment holding the mighty god of thunder captive. He alone decided what would happen to him.
This arrangement felt much better.
He sensed Talvi’s presence even before his nephew ducked under the tent flap. His broad shoulders touched the hides, and Njord was momentarily struck by how much little Talvinen had grown. Håkon Bloodaxe followed close behind him and let his gaze wander over the inside of the pavilion.
“There you are,” Talvi said.
Njord rose from his crouched position beside the bed, although it felt strange to expose Thori to the gazes of his guests.
Drawing a sharp breath, Talvi regarded the prisoner in surprise. Njord could relate. Chained and collared like he was, Thori looked like a pretty whore, and Talvi probably wondered what had gotten into his uncle to have him in his bed.
“Who’s that?” Talvi asked.
“Thori Odinsson.”
“You made a god of theÆsiryour thrall?” Håkon said as if asking himself what kind of mad family he’d married into.
Talvi, however, watched him with pride.
“Not just any warrior,” he said. “The man who killed Jökull.”
Exhaling slowly, Njord felt the weight of those words settle over him. He should have felt triumphant, should have relished the justice in it, but he did not.
“I didn’t capture him,” he admitted. “I bought him from Sveinn.”
“How did that rat get his hands on a warrior like Thori?”
Allowing himself to sit down on the edge of the bed again, Njord’s fingers absently traced down Thori’s flank. Strange as it was, touching Thori helped him gather his thoughts.
“His longship was ambushed as they were scouting for a raid,” Njord recounted what information he and Skalmöld had gathered about the incident. “I believe it was Svanhild’s doing that they were caught. And Thori—he made sure hisliðcould escape at the price of his own freedom.”
Talvi scoffed. “A more selfless deed than I’d expected from this scum.”
Njord only hummed in response. His first impulse was to defend Thori. He wasn’t merely an honorless brute. Njord had seen for himself how he’d protected Andora from Sveinn. Thori had little to gain by defending the thrall girl. She wasn’t in a position to return any favors. Still, he’d done it. But he wouldn’t bother Talvi with his observations.
“So, what now?” Talvi asked. “Do you plan to keep him?”
Njord’s hand settled on Thori’s neck, fingers tightening in his soft hair.
“Yes. A fitting punishment for Jökull’s death, don’t you agree?”
“Certainly.”
Only Talvi sounded all but certain. He watched Njord intently, perceptive as always.
“What’s bothering you then, Uncle?”
He didn’t want to trouble his nephew with his concerns. It was already too much that Talvi had to rule the kingdom on his own at such a young age. He shouldn’t concern himself with Njord’s problems. On the other hand, the information might serve him well, and as the ruler of Vanaheim, he deserved to know.
“Svanhild,” Njord finally said. “She’s pulling the strings here. And she would only let me have Thori if I agreed to participate in her ritual.”
“With him?” Talvi stilled. “In the state he’s in?”
“I don’t fancy it, but the alternative is razing the whole camp to the ground, killing both Sveinn and Svanhild.”
That, or he was taking the burden of the ritual alone. Risky, perhaps, but not impossible. However, he wouldn’t reveal this particular plan to Talvi.
